All This Time
by summerr13
Summary: Post DA2. Anders has no real ties to the events that happened in Kirkwall. Follow his exploits as he delves into the issues that surround the current conflicts facing Thedas and his life.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: The characters written within this story are purely for fictional use. I do not, nor claim to own any character from the Dragon Age series. They belong to Bioware.

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Prologue- Risks

It becomes tradition, until it's not. When throwing one's self into harms way is nothing more than second nature. It's sort of a drug, eliciting emotional responses strong enough to cloud all judgment, all reasoning. And as she settles into it's vastness, there's a moment that no sounds, no sights can interrupt: the moment when she forgets about the things that haunt her most… the way his eyes had gleamed, the way his smile had shined.

But with all things, this will not last.

He enters her room, a bottle of liquor in one hand, two glasses in the other. She stares at him suspiciously.

"I thought you didn't drink." She calls him out.

He smirks and shrugs his shoulders, "I had a feeling…" he says, placing the half-empty glass before her, "… that you might need _this_." She reluctantly grabs at it, looking down at the amber liquid.

She's done this before…

To the point when the lines between dreams and reality were blurred. Surely, she's not ready to tread down that path again. So instead, she twirls the glass within her hand watching as the vortex takes shape. It occupies her time for just a moment, until he clears his throat.

She stares up at him catching his eyes, the light from the fire masking the true beauty within. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Then... we don't talk about it." He answers simply, downing his glass of liquor.

She hates to admit it.

That for the past couple of years, every 14th of March, she has found herself in his company, or his hers. She does not hope for this connection, that she may need or want him. For he adds more conflicting emotions that she wishes to avoid.

She hates to admit that she finds comfort in knowing he's here.

They sit in her room in silence, until the bottle runs dry, and there is nothing left to occupy the time. She's never the first to speak, but that doesn't compel her to not know the direction the conversation will take. And they are past playing coy with one another.

"I'm here for you." It's said in the most sincerest of senses.

She laughs lightly.

How untrue the statement is. No... she thinks back. No one has ever been there for her, especially when it mattered most. Her thoughts drift to those times when she had wished for someone, but was quickly met with disappointment. And for twelve years she had tried her very best, but oh how the children had suffered with no real guidance; disillusioning their lives into thinking everything would be okay, even though she knew hers wasn't/couldn't. Though if anything, no one could discredit her attempts to provide, to protect them. And she did so at any cost... even if it had meant her own life..

...her own happiness.

She's never forgiven him for leaving that day. And no matter how hard she tries, she will never forget, not truly anyway.

Her companion sighs. His arm outstretches until his hand rest gently against her shoulder, neither comforting nor crass. He repeats himself more firmly until it becomes clear within her own consciousness, that he's the only one that's ever tried.

He turns to leave, and it's the hope that he will return again, that will drive her further away.

But today is a day of risks.

If only she knew at that moment, there would be no turning back.

But she can always try and forget.

Now can't she.

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A/N: This is the beginning to what I hope to be a long story (more than ten chapters if all goes well). And for anyone confused by the omission of names, have no fear, it is intentional and will be revealed in due time.

This story is based loosely on the events of the DA2 series. Post DA2, were war has riddled across all of Thedas. It will delve primarily in the life of Anders, who in this story is not a mass murderer of innocents, but a Warden mage conflicted by the arising conflicts surrounding the war. That's as much as I can sum up at this point.

Hope you all enjoy!


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: same as before.

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Chapter 1- Twenty-four

He doesn't acknowledge her presence, but he's fully aware she's there; watching and waiting, just as he, as the people gather outside the gates. Sometimes arriving by the dozens, but lately the count has lessened considerably.

_Nineteen_…

A far bit more than yesterday's eleven. It's not their numbers that seem to foul his demeanor, but that they've bothered to come at all. The sick looks in their faces, the distraught-wounded expressions; as if pity should right them into favor. But he realizes it's not entirely their fault.

The sun starts to settle in the distance. It's about that time when most groups have given up their efforts and gathered their belongings; but as he peers down at the five men below, he realizes they're seemingly different from the lowly townsfolk that usually beg to get a foothold in the keep.

He stares at her expectantly, "what do they want this time?"

"Shelter," she answers simply.

He raises an eyebrow at her omission.

She turns her head towards the group, and chuckles lightly. "…and if the Wardens would be willing to fight for _the _cause," she finishes dramatically, confirming his suspicions.

No one has come out of this war unharmed. Like a disease it has spread quickly across Thedas, destroying all semblances of hope. And as hundreds have flocked to the keep, (although he won't discredit their efforts in seeking refuge) he finds it's only in nature of existence that the weak will find comfort within the strong. Much of a position he'd been in himself years ago; except apart from these individuals who've tried and failed, he'd been exceptionally.. fortunate.

There are always exceptions… and he realizes all to surely although their circumstances my differ as they come, lately, their intents have always been the same.

"Which one?"

"Does it matter," she answers solemnly, taking a seat beside him.

_No._ Supposedly not to a Grey Warden, whom by definition is to remain unbiased in nature. Only one duty has truly been expected from such a person- Rid the world of the darker evils plaguing this land: Darkspawn; Except, there have been fewer Darkspawn sightings for several months; and with all things considered, it's a wonder what the truer evils really plaguing these lands are.

Her elbow nudges playfully against his ribs alerting his swaying attention. "What's going on in that head of yours," she asks, with a sly smile and a tone conveying one of humor.

"Nothing," he replies apathetically.

Her eyes roll. "Sure," she drawls out. "You've spent everyday up here for the past month… and _nothing_ is going on? Why is it that I don't exactly believe you?"

He shrugs his shoulders. He trusts her intently, but his thought are not one to broadcast; if anything, though, Solona has a knack for figuring these trivial things on her own.

"It's not easy, you know? Turning everyone of them away… I want to be able to help them… I really do…"

"You've done it before…"

She chuckles, "simply meddling will not fix this war. I'm not even entirely sure what will. But what I do know is that someone will… someone will make it their life's intent on fixing this. And we have it hard enough as it is to get involved."

"I'm sure being _unbiased_ hasn't granted us any more favors."

She smiles faintly, "we were never very popular to begin with. But I digress, we're not going to right any wrongs by being everyone's political puppet."

"I just hate sitting idle while the world is being ripped into two," he confesses.

"I know," she sighs, her blue eyes catching his own, "but it's not our place." And he knows it, but it still doesn't answer the question ringing in his mind.

"But if you could choose.. who would you side with?"

"Neither," she answers simply, and he's well aware of her affiliations to not seek any further explanation.

Solona brushes the dust off her pants as she gets up, taking one last look at him before retreating to bed. "Get some rest, Anders… you look awful." He smiles, and waits till she's indoors before taking a final glance below.

_Twenty-four._

It won't be long before, the Warden's passiveness will occlude any hopes of maintaining civilities with the few allies possessed. But he digresses, it's not entirely the issue at hand; or anything that concerns him really.

Anders stands then, bones cracking under the pressure, muscles stretching from prolonged under use, and stalks towards the heavy wooden door leading into the keep. He navigates his way through the dim lit corridors until he reaches his room, cramped in the far corner with the other senior members of the order. He tries to lull himself to sleep then, but he knows it will take more effort then what he had.

He sighs then, reaching for his special bottle, safely hidden on the underside of his nightstand, and takes a sip of the dark-viscous liquid. It was only to be used on occasion when the nightmares had hit him full-force, except lately he seemed to be using it more that warranted.

The last bit of light wavers, before he plunges into the darkness.

And he realizes what really bothers him…

That he hasn't had much say in his life.

And he never will.


End file.
